


Five Things That Never Happed to Viktor Krum But Should Have

by poisontaster



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Quintuple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-15
Updated: 2005-12-15
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2238687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the title says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things That Never Happed to Viktor Krum But Should Have

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fleshlycherry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleshlycherry/gifts).



I. At the World Cup.

Gabrovski, their coach, and most of the team, are gone when the screaming starts. So is Karkaroff, a relief. Karkaroff told him not to leave, but he’s uneasy. He grabs his wand, his broom—because there is no danger he can’t outfly—and goes to the flap.

People are fleeing. He has to dodge a young witch with bushy brown hair towing two boys behind her. She gets two steps, turns back to him with a glare, holds out her hand and says, “Don’t stand there all day! Come on!”

Bemused, Viktor takes her hand.

 

II. In the Library.

He looks up and finds Hermione standing over him, hugging some thick musty book to her jumper. She looks exasperated. The lanterns pick splinters of red from the heavy cloud of her hair, mirroring her mood. “What?” he asks, nervous.

“Viktor—“ It’s the first time she’s said his name. “How long are you going to sit here and pretend to read books before you ask me out?”

“You knew?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m not _stupid_ , am I? I really hope it’s not going to take you this long to work up to our first kiss.”

“First…first _kiss_?”

 

III. At the Winter Ball.

“You don’t say very much, do you?”

Viktor shrugs. His dress coat is already starting to be too small; it strains across his shoulders and he lets them slump again. He should have known this was a stupid idea; a girl this smart, one who burns so brightly.

She sits next to him on the rampart and slides her cool soft fingers through his. His head comes up, startled. “I rather like that about you,” she says, with that crooked smile she reserves for Ron and Harry. “In fact, I can’t think of very much I _don’t_ like about you.”

 

IV. After the Lake.

She’s still shivering. He murmurs “ _Tepidus_ ” and waves his wand, bringing soft heated winds to dry and warm her. The flat, sodden mess of her hair springs up from her scalp in its usual burnt sugar aurora. It’s softer than it looks, especially near the back of her neck, where he likes to bury his fingers.

“Thank you.” At once, her hands go to her hair, trying to comb it into neatness. He puts his hand over hers. “I must look a fright.”

“You look beautiful,” he says, and she looks at him doubtfully, but he can tell she’s pleased.

 

V. In Bulgaria.

He’s surprised; he doesn’t get many owls and his mother has written once this month. Viktor takes the letter from it and feeds it a strip of rabbit. It clucks gratefully and flies away.

He knows her handwriting, careful and yet flowery, like Hermione herself. He brings it to his nose and inhales the aroma of her, eyes closed. He opens it, nervousness in his belly. He didn’t expect a response so soon; he fears it’s bad news after all. She is the brightest witch of her age, and he’s just good at Quiddich.

_Viktor,_

Yes. A thousand times, yes.


End file.
